Proposal
by stayathomemum
Summary: What if Tony had not intercepted Geoffrey's proposal? (rating has been upgraded to M)
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: What if Mona had not intercepted Tony while Geoffrey was proposing? Tony never went to Angela's window. He never spray painted "No" for her. So, here's an alternate version of events. Season 3, The Proposal.**_

"Geoffrey, the answer is . . the answer is," Angela faltered, then coughed to save face. "My voice, she whispered, holding a hand up to her throat while exaggerating her wheeze."

"Snookums, I don't mean to rush you, but I really need an answer now. Can you simply nod or shake your head?" Geoffrey was becoming impatient and fearful of Angela's possible answer. He wanted this woman for his wife. She was a perfect match for him in so many ways. He knew, and had the carefully folded list to prove it. He couldn't let her get away. "I know your throat is sore, but my darling, know that I will always take care of you when you're sick. In sickness and in health, right?" He gazed at her tenderly and grabbed her hand. "Please my Angel, please make me the happiest man alive! You won't regret it. I will make it my life goal to make you happy," he grovelled.

Angela opened her mouth and closed it again. Geoffrey saw the opportunity for one more bit of sweet-talking, "I worship the ground you walk on." His declaration was both heartfelt and strategic, for he could see her beginning to cave. "We're perfect together, don't you think so?" he asked her.

Slowly, she nodded. Her heart was slamming into her chest and she couldn't remember what it was she wanted to tell him. Her list matched his. Perhaps she wasn't cut out for spontaneous passion like Tony and Marie. Besides, Tony and Marie had been teenagers when they wed. She and Geoffrey were in their thirties, both professionals, with common goals and views. Still, she couldn't shake a certain uneasiness and felt unable to respond.

"You nodded! You nodded! Is that a yes?" Geoffrey jumped up, an enormous grin on his face. "Oh Angel, is it a yes? Please tell me it's a yes!"

"Uh …", Angela felt trapped. Geoffrey's joy, so palpable, so present in the closed room felt like a reproach to her doubt. He looked down at her, hope radiating from his blue eyes. She saw the love there, and knew with certainty that he would never hurt her. Michael had never been this keen. She wanted to be safe, to be loved, to be taken care of. But something nagged at her. Before she could organize her thoughts, Geoffrey knelt down once more and took her hands in his. "We love each other," he said. "We're good together and I don't want us to end." His eyes glinted with moisture as he gazed into her eyes. He placed his hand on her cheek and drew her toward him, placing a light kiss on her closed mouth. "My love, marry me. Marry me. Say you'll marry me. Say it …." Geoffrey chanted, his voice hypnotic and eyes pleading.

"Alright. Alright, I'll marry you," she gasped. After all, why shouldn't she marry Geoffrey? He was nice to her. He was stable. Yes, very stable, and predictable. He was neat and prompt and serious, and he loved her. Of that she was sure. He definitely loved her. She was not destined to be impulsive nor to embrace reckless abandon. Angela knew who she was, and who she would continue to be. So many years of lonely single-hood. Surely, she wouldn't be one to go on Single's Cruises like Mona. She would be adored by Geoffrey, and life would be agreeable, pleasant even. Yes, she confirmed to herself. Yes, this was the easy choice. Otherwise, she'd have to break Geoffrey's heart, and he didn't deserve that. Besides, she'd prompted him to propose after his stupid time-share idea. She had truly believed he was going to propose, and had been all set to say yes. That was her first instinct. To say yes. So yes.

* * *

Mona entered the house in a panic. "Where is he?" she demanded of Tony, who was sitting on the couch looking forlorn.

"Who?"

"Geoffrey! Where is he? And where's Angela?" she asked, more loudly this time.

"They're upstairs. He's proposing and she's accepting." He looked down at his feet and sighed.

"Well what are you doing down here, man?!"

"Why? What do you mean?"

She walked over to him and grabbed his arm. "Get up there! Talk some sense into her. She'll listen to you." Mona pulled Tony's arm in a failed attempt to lug him off the couch.

"Stop it, Mone." He threw her off and glared at her. "Do you really expect me, her housekeeper to tell her what to do?" He shook his head. "Don't you see? She wanted to marry him. Look how disappointed she was when he offered her a timeshare instead of proposing."

"Angela doesn't know what's good for her. Keeping that dork around for as long as she has makes it obvious, doesn't it?"

"Mona, it's not my place to tell her what to do. She's been with Geoffrey for months now, and they seem happy. Remember when they broke up after the tree fell on his car? She was miserable."

"And you were the idiot who helped them get back together," Mona lamented. "I thought you two ….I thought the two of you would end up together one day."

Tony looked away from her, unable to meet her scrutinizing stare. A warm blush made its way up his neck to his cheeks and he could feel them burning with shame. "Yeah well, Mone, you gotta stop playin' matchmaker. Angela and I are friends and she's my boss. That's it." The words rang hollow to him, so he continued to avert his eyes.

Mona said nothing for a moment, as she was quite unable to respond to Tony's falsehood with anything but anger or sarcasm. She sucked in her breath and exhaled sharply. Trying to reason with her stubborn daughter, and even more stubborn housekeeper was an exercise in futility. Sometimes Mona fantasized about smashing their heads together, or at least their lips. Given the impossibility of said task, Mona decided to switch tactics.

"Tony, do you or do you not have feelings for Angela?" Mona got right into Tony's face and space.

Tony crossed his arms and hung his head low. "Why are you doing this, Mona? Angela's gonna get married. There ain't nothin' I can do about it. There never was."

"That's because you two obstinate hardheads will never admit your feelings for each other. Whatever the reasons, I'll never understand." Mona shook her head. "I remember the chemistry between you two on the day of Paul and Isabelle's wedding. When you danced with her, sparks were shooting all around you. It was so obvious in the way you looked at her, and the way she was gazing back at you. Dammit Tony, you never should have let her dance with Geoffrey!" She flailed her arms helplessly sat down, defeated.

"There you go blamin' _me_ again, Mone. _I_ let her dance with Geoffrey. _I_ got them back together. _I_ let him in to propose and didn't stop it. What about _her_? Huh? What about Angela? Clearly, this is what _she_ wants!" Tony roughly ran his hands through his hair. "So stop layin' all of this on me! Angela made her list. That's what she does. She makes lists." He looked so utterly crushed, his voice cracking with every word. "I gotta get outta here." Tony grabbed his jacket and keys and ran out of the house, leaving a rather stunned Mona gaping at his departing back.

 _ **A/N: So I found this one chapter of a new story on my hard drive. Wrote it a few years ago. Yes, years. Should I continue it?**_


	2. Chapter 2

Geoffrey and Angela's official engagement dinner was to take place the following weekend at La Fleur. The entire family was expected to attend, as well as Mother Wells and Geoffrey's older spinster sister, Beatrix. The mother and sister lived together in a large, rambling estate that had belonged to the Wells family for generations. Geoffrey was set to inherit it.

The night of the dinner, everybody in the Bower-Micelli household was getting ready for the party. Tony was in the shower and Angela was trying on multiple dresses. Jonathan made his way to his mother's bedroom and knocked at her door. She opened it between trying dresses, wearing her ratty old pink bathrobe.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" she asked.

"Do I hafta go, Mom?" he whined.

"Of course you have to go, Jonathan. This is my engagement dinner; it's very important."

"But my tummy kinda hurts," he complained, holding his stomach and bending over for effect. He glanced up at his mother to check her reaction. She touched his forehead and shook her head.

"You don't have a temperature," she said. "Come here, Sweetheart. Sit down." She patted the edge of the bed and beckoned to him. "Are you sure you have a tummy ache?" she asked gently, while forcing eye contact with her son. He couldn't lie to her face.

"I don't know," he mumbled.

"Hmm, I didn't think so," she said. "Jonathan, if your reaction to my announcement a few days ago is any indication, I can see that you're not very happy about my engagement." Angela paused and took a deep breath. "You aren't, are you?"

The little boy shook his head. "Why do you have to marry him, Mom? What about Tony and Samantha?"

"Tony and Samantha will always be our friends. They'll always be special in our lives. Always. And they don't have to move out. I've already explained this to you. I'm going to invite Geoffrey to live here, with us. We'll have a bigger family."

"But it's perfect just the way it is," he cried. "I don't want you to get married, Mom." Jonathan ran out of his mother's room and bolted across the corridor to his own, and slammed the door.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Tony popped his head out of the hallway bathroom, his face half covered in shaving foam. He saw Angela peering out of her doorway with a look of chagrin on her face and approached her. "Angela?"

She sighed heavily and looked at her feet. "Jonathan doesn't want to come tonight. He's not happy about the engagement."

Tony nodded, thinking along the same lines as Jonathan but he didn't dare voice it. Angela seemed happy since becoming engaged. Or rather, she did not seem unhappy. Then again, he'd barely spent any time with her since she'd announced her engagement, busy as she was planning her wedding. He could still see the children's gaping mouths, Mona's horror, and remember his own nausea upon learning the upsetting news. His tummy roiled in reminiscence now.

"Well?" Angela asked.

"Well, what?"

"What should I do, Tony?"

"You're asking me my advice now? Don't you think it's a bit late? You're already wearin' his rock on your finger."

Angela's jaw dropped and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "What are you …what are you talking about?" she stammered.

Tony blanched. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"Jonathan's attitude. He can't skip tonight's dinner," she said. She couldn't keep a small tremor out of her voice. Her eyes were like saucers, fixed on Tony.

"Oh, yeah that. That's what I meant too," he lied. "Kid's gotta go. Just be firm with him, Angela."

Angela stumbled backward into her room. She closed the door and leaned against it, dropping to her haunches. Her head fell into her hands and she nervously threaded her fingers through her hair. _You're asking me my advice now? Don't you think it's a bit late? You're already wearin' his rock on your finger._ Tony's words echoed disagreeably in her head. She stared at the engagement ring on her finger and flinched. The accusatorial glare of her three carat diamond winked at her. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she whispered to herself.

* * *

At La Fleur, two wretched children, a resentful redhead, and a heartbroken housekeeper sat together, trying to maintain outward appearances. For when the Wells family was present, outward appearances counted very much. Mother Wells was a formidable woman, tall and thin as a rake, and just as unbendable. In fact, it appeared that she had perhaps swallowed said rake. Beatrix Wells was an older, effeminate version of Geoffrey, with immaculate manners, and every black curl tamed into place with _Aquanet_. The two families sat together at one large table with Beatrix and Mother Wells at either head. Geoffrey and Angela sat together in the middle, scrutinized by the entire dinner party while they ate. Dinner was scrumptious; coq au vin with garlic mashed potatoes, French cut beans and soft white dinner rolls. The wine flowed but the conversation did not. Samantha and Jonathan pushed the expensive food around their plates, while Tony and Mona forced theirs down for the sake of façades. After a meal of long, uncomfortable silences, quiet sighs, punctuated by polite small talk, Geoffrey ordered champagne. The children received sparkling grape juice.

"I'm so happy you're all here to celebrate in our happiness!" Geoffrey exclaimed. He stood up and held his champagne glass in the air. "I'd like to propose, ha ha, a toast to my beautiful bride to be, Angela. To you, my Angel!"

Angela smiled up at him from her seat. She held out her champagne glass, looking for someone to clink with. Mother Wells and Beatrix held out their glasses and delicately touched them to Angela's glass, no sound registering. Mona chugged her champagne, and the kids stared at the sparkling grape juice as though it were poison. Tony sat, observing, unable to move. He caught Angela's hurt expression and forced his lips into a facsimile of a smile. His arm moved mechanically toward her with his glass and he touched the rim to hers, creating a light ding. Their eyes met over the sparkling champagne, candlelight reflecting on their faces. Tony held her gaze, unwilling to let her go. He did not blink or waver, he simply stared at her. His scrutiny was piercing in its intensity but it was the only way he could connect with her now. She was so lovely tonight, with her hair loose about her shoulders. And he couldn't help but notice the thin blue cashmere dress she wore, and the way the soft material clung to her gentle curves. Clearly the dress was also having an effect on Geoffrey because the man's hands rarely left Angela's back. Tony was sick of watching the possessive gesture and had to fight the temptation to smack Geoff's hands.

"To my Angel," Geoffrey gushed, as the glass clinking spread throughout the table. "I'll never forget the first time I saw her, at a wedding. She was the matron of honor, and she glided down the aisle, looking almost like a bride herself. I knew in that moment that I had to marry her. That I was _going_ to marry her." Geoffrey smiled widely and grasped his fiancee's elbow, dragging her up to stand beside him. "I fell in love with you at first sight," he said. Before Angela could react, he put his hand behind her neck and pulled her face closely to his own. She blinked and tried to move back, not wanting extreme displays of affection in front of the children or in front of Tony. Geoffrey didn't notice; he was too fixated on his goal. He brought her mouth to his and pressed his lips against it, hard. He mistook her sound of protest for a moan of pleasure and sought entry into her mouth with his tongue. Angela was horrified. She couldn't breathe through her nose because she had a slight cold, and now her mouth was being assaulted in front of her family. She pushed at Geoffrey, hard, the heels of her palms connecting solidly with his chest.

Mother Wells let out a nervous chuckle. "While this occasion does call for enthusiasm, my dear boy, there is a certain decorum that must be observed during public displays of affection."

Reluctantly, Geoffrey let go of his angel. "I'm sorry, Sweetums. I guess I just got carried away by your sweet lips." Angela wiped her mouth and felt a furious blush rise up her face. She turned away from her fiancé and dropped into her chair.

Tony gripped the edge of the table and blew hot air out of his nose. He wanted to deck Geoffrey for his heavy handed display just now. Couldn't he tell that Angela hadn't enjoyed it? That he'd overstepped some serious boundaries? He'd just manhandled her in front of everybody.

"To the happy couple," Beatrix sang out. "May they have a long, happy marriage!"

"Yes, to the bride and groom to be," Mother Wells agreed. From either head of the table, the Wells women took command of the toast, demoting Geoffrey and effectively dismissing Angela, who at this moment desperately wanted to flee.

Tony was staring at her intently again, his dark eyes filled with worry, and anger. He wanted to speak to her, to check in with her, but she was too far away. Though only seated across and one chair over from him, she was too far away.

"I have my own toast to give," Mother Wells said. She rose to her formidable height and cleared her throat meaningfully. "Geoffrey, you are my only son and you are finally getting married." She emphasised the word 'finally'. "You're thirty-seven years old, and I worried that I might never see this day. As such, I'm very relieved. You've found a special lady; one of quality and refinement. I hope it's not too late for you two to have children. How old are you dear?" She turned to Angela.

"What?" Angela's blush quickly faded and she went pale.

"How old are you, dear? Are you still fertile?"

Angela wanted to hide beneath the table. Mother Wells always was a blunt woman, but this question was ridiculous.

"Mother, please," Geoffrey stepped in to defend his bride-to-be. "You're embarrassing her. Of course she's fertile. She's younger than I am."

"I'm sorry, Angela. I didn't mean to embarrass you, but you must understand my situation. My daughter has missed her opportunity to have children, and my son has remained a bachelor late in years. Naturally, I'm wondering if I'll ever become a grandmother. I do want to be a grandmother. You two won't want to wait to begin a family."

Tony felt mortified on Angela's behalf. That Geoffrey's mother could seriously discuss this topic at an engagement dinner horrified him. Weren't the Wells supposed to be genteel and refined? And the thought of Angela having Geoffrey's baby made him want to vomit up his coq au vin. He winced and tried to catch Angela's eyes, but they were downcast and he couldn't reach her.

"Geoffrey and I haven't discussed having children yet," Angela said in a tremulous voice. She continued staring at the white table cloth.

"But my dear, you two simply must have children, or else the line stops with my son. The Wells line cannot stop here. It must not die. Geoffrey's descendants are set to inherit a fortune!"

Angela cringed and looked to Geoffrey for help but he simply nodded at his mother's words, then replied, "Don't worry, Mother, we'll do our duty and give you grandchildren."

Unable to remain quiet a moment longer, Mona stood up. "I'd like to make a toast of my own, to the …happy…couple." Her words were imbued with sarcasm. "To my lovely daughter, _who is still of child bearing age_ , and to her fiancé, a man who has surprised me time and time again. From the time you so generously let Angela drive your brand new Porsche, to the time you kindly included her _entire_ family in your Christmas celebrations, you have surprised me. All the quality time you've spent with Jonathan, your future step-son, has been absolutely heartwarming. Playing baseball in the park, having BBQ's in the backyard, taking him to his gymnastic meets and accompanying him to a father-son golf tournament, aaaah, you're such wonderful father material." Mona took a sip of champagne while ignoring the shock on her daughter's face. Mother Wells and Beatrix nodded and smiled, no doubt believing every word. Jonathan wrinkled his nose in confusion and Samantha kept kicking her father's shin beneath the table. Tony smiled at Mona, and made a mental note to hug her later.

Mona locked eyes with Geoffrey. "If you marry my daughter, you will be joining an existing family," she told him, solemn now. "You inherit a step-son. You also inherit me as your mother-in-law. Let that one sink in, eh, Geoff. I live close by, so I'll be there to, uh, babysit when my daughter starts popping out those Wells babies. Of course, Angela will be busy with the Bower Agency so you'll need my help and …"

"Excuse me," Mother Wells interrupted Mona. "Angela isn't thinking of continuing to work once she begins having babies, does she? She certainly won't need to."

Angela blinked in surprise. "Of course I'm going to continue running my agency, Mrs. Wells. I'm the owner. My clients depend on me, and I've invested a lot of hard work into building it. Geoffrey knows, right Sweetheart?"

"Uh, ummm," Geoffrey looked between his mother and his fiancée, not knowing which one to support. He shrank beneath his mother's steely gaze. "Well you see, Angel, as Mother said, you won't need to work."

She gaped at him, his betrayal rendering her temporarily speechless.

"Do you have any idea how hard Angela's worked to start up her own agency?" Tony said a little too loudly.

"Of course, but Angela is marrying into the Wells family. She'll be expected to sit on the board of directors of various charities," Geoffrey replied. He eyed Tony with derision and sniffed. "She won't be idle."

"Yeah right, what with poppin' out babies," Tony said, grimly.

"Exactly. Glad you understand."

Tony clenched his fists beneath the table and looked to Mona. She shook her head sadly.

"Geoffrey, I will continue running my agency," Angela told him. Her tone was sharp and decisive.

"Well of course, Sweetums. You can delegate when you have a baby," he conceded. "I'll help you hire a president."

"I'm my own president," she said. "As well as the CEO, CFO, creative director and copy writer. I do everything because my agency is new. Until the cash flow is stronger, I won't be able to hire …"

"Angela, shhhhh," Geoffrey put his index finger to her lips. "We don't talk about business or money at the dinner table."

"Yes, really!" huffed out Mother Wells.

"But talking about my fertility is okay?" she asked him, eyes wide.

"As it relates to our upcoming nuptials," he explained. "But yes, I am sorry that my mother mentioned that at the table. It really should have been elsewhere."

"Or nowhere," she retorted.

"Now, now, let's stop bickering. Already acting like a married couple, they are," Mother Wells said with a nervous laugh. "I think there's another, timelier topic we need to address."

"And what could that be?" Angela asked warily.

"The wedding itself, of course! Where are you having it and when are you setting a date?"

"We were thinking of the Fairfield Inn for the reception," Geoffrey said, a knowing smile on his face. "That place has special significance to us. As well, they have a lovely dining room and menu."

Tony almost gagged. He remembered the Fairfield Inn a little too well. He'd been in the room next to Angela and Geoffrey during their first night together. Memories of what he'd heard through the bathroom pipes still haunted him at times. And he hadn't thought it was pleasant for Angela either. Tony had deduced that Geoffrey was a terrible lover and poor Angela was going to be stuck with that for the rest of her life.*

"The Fairfield Inn is adequate," Beatrix said. "However, the Four Seasons has a much nicer menu."

"Well, we have time to figure that out," Angela said. She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she felt Tony's gaze upon her. She turned to face him, and was startled by the look of abject despair on his face. A lump rose into her throat. "I'm sorry everybody, but I have an early day tomorrow. I think it's best we call it a night."

"So soon?" Geoffrey poured more champagne into Angela's glass. "Here, have some more champagne. I can order you a coffee. And how about some dessert?"

"I'm sorry, Geoffrey, but I have an early client meeting tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, Angela."

"Yes, but this particular client could only meet me tomorrow." Angela retrieved her handbag from the back of her chair and began fumbling for her car keys. "I really must go."

"You work too hard, my Angel." Geoffrey knew better than to insist. He stood up and pulled out her chair. "Once we're married, you won't need to work this hard."

Not wanting to begin another argument, Angela said nothing. Instead she turned to Mother Wells and Beatrix. "Good night everybody. Thank you for the, er, lovely dinner tonight," she forced herself to say. Once they'd exited the restaurant, she handed Tony her car keys. "Please drive, I'm too tired and I just want to go home."

"Yeah, home," he repeated. After an evening of unbelievable restraint, Tony put his hand on the small of Angela's back and whispered into her ear, "Not for nothin', but your agency is your business. Same for havin' more babies."

She nodded and inclined her head more closely to his before putting her mouth close to his ear. "I'm going to need your advice tonight. Can we talk once the kids are in bed?"

"You bet, Ang. You bet."

 *** Please check out chapter 3 of my story, Awkward Moments. Tony listening to Angela and Geoffrey through the bathroom pipes at the Fairfield Inn. . . .**

 _A/N: Not easy to return to a fandom that I haven't been watching for years now. Still, Tony and Angela were my first teenaged shipping couple, before shipping was even a thing. They'll always have a special place in my heart because 12-year old me really wanted them to get together. And I still do_. Reviews are life!


	3. Chapter 3

"Finally got the kids to bed," Tony announced as he pushed through the kitchen door. Angela was sitting there waiting for him with a cup of chamomile tea.

"Thank you, Tony. I simply didn't have it in me to do the whole bedtime routine with Jonathan tonight. I'm sorry." Angela stared into her tea while idly fiddling with the teacup handle.

"You don't need to apologize, Ang," he said. Tony sat beside her at the kitchen table. "Tonight was rough. I don't know how you managed not to lose it during dinner."

"Mother Wells is unbelievable! I'm shocked that she said those things to me, in front of the children no less. What was she thinking, Tony?"

Tony let out a deep breath. "I think that she really wants grandchildren. I also believe that she rules over her children with an iron fist. An Italian mother's got nothin' on her for guilt trips." He chuckled lightly and added, "Geoffrey's worse than any mammoni I've ever known."

"A what? What's a mammoni?"

"An Italian Mama's boy, Angela."

"Oh?" Angela blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Well, you tell me. Who's deciding your future? Seems to me like Mother Wells is making decisions about your job, and your family planning. Geoff goes along with whatever she says. Does he even want kids for himself? I mean, he's not exactly a natural with Jonathan."

"I don't know. We haven't discussed having kids yet. I …I've been so focused on my agency that I haven't given it much thought. Geoffrey is busy trying to make partner before he's forty. He works sixty hour weeks," Angela explained.

"Doesn't leave much time for a baby, does it?" Tony took a sip from Angela's cup and peered over the rim at her. His dark eyes were honest and unflinching, and he decided that beating around the bush would be counterproductive to his goal. He had to stop Angela from marrying Geoffrey. She'd be miserable with him. And he'd be miserable without her.

"Guess not," she replied. "Though …."

"Though what?" Tony swallowed nervously.

"Though, I would like to have another child. And it's not like I'm getting any younger."

"Oh." The utter disappointment conveyed through that one syllable shot straight into Angela's heart.

"I … what I mean is that … if I do have another child, I don't want it to be because Mother Wells commands it, or because Geoffrey needs an heir, or because it's expected. I always wanted a second child, even with Michael." Angela looked pensive.

"What happened? How come you and Michael didn't have more?"

"Michael didn't want another one. Said it would interfere with his travelling, so he ensured that it would never happen again." Angela gritted her teeth and looked into Tony's warm eyes. "He secretly had a vasectomy, then told me about it after the fact."

"Whoa. I'm so sorry, Angela. That's …wow …that's …" he trailed off, not knowing how to end the sentence in any way that didn't involve cursing out Michael.

"That's a betrayal," she finished for him. "It was certainly one of the factors that led to our divorce."

Tony nodded at her sympathetically. "I can't even imagine what that must have been like," he said. He placed a warm hand on hers and gently squeezed her slim fingers. They sat still like that, he holding her hand, taking turns sipping out of the same cup. He had so much to tell her, so much to express but the fear of overstepping established boundaries terrified him. Conversely, the thought of losing Angela forever to a bad marriage terrified him more.

"Angela, how come you said yes to Geoffrey's proposal?"

Her eyes flew open. "It seemed like the right decision," she told him, unsure if she needed to be defensive or simply dead honest with him. She could never lie to him, not when he was eyeing her with such sincerity and concern.

"Seemed? As in past tense?"

"Um, well, you know, there was the list. Geoffrey and I are very compatible," she told him, bypassing his question completely.

"I remember your list," he said with a sigh. "But Ang, some decisions can't be made from a list. Remember what I told you about when I asked Marie to marry me? It was passion and love."

"But Tony, I'm not like that. You two were crazy kids in love. Geoffrey and I are professionals in our thirties, seeking companionship, mutual goals and interests."

"Mutual goals and interests? Seriously, Angela? Are you even in love with the guy? Would you be able to live without him?" Tony slammed their shared cup on the table and stood up. Angela jumped at the sudden brusque movements.

Tony walked over to the sink and leaned against the kitchen counter, facing out the window. He needed a moment to calm himself, because if he lost it now, he might lose Angela forever.

"I can't believe you'd ask me that," she told him. She got up and came to stand behind him. While shocked by Tony's question, the truth was that she knew the answer. She could live without Geoffrey. Easily, in fact. She looked at the strong back of the man in front of her, and knew for a fact that she wouldn't be able to live without him. The realization hit her like a live wire, and panic began to set in. The oxygen in the room was too thin, and she gasped.

Tony turned at the sound of distress, just in time to see Angela flee the kitchen. "Angela? Wait!" He caught up with her just as she was about to bolt up the stairs. Her face was flushed and she was breathing erratically.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked. He gently grasped her bicep and sought eye contact with her. She looked away, unable to bear the amount of truth mirrored back.

"I need to go to bed," she said, her voice high and shaky.

"Not like this," he said. "You're upset."

She shook her head and sniffled. With her free arm, she swiped at the tears that threatened to fall. Tony was still holding onto her right upper arm. His other hand was on her back, rubbing gently. "I'm sorry I upset you," he murmured into her ear. The timbre of his voice was low and raw with emotion. Angela shivered in response.

Tony could feel that she wanted to escape him and flee up the stairs, where she'd lock herself away in her bedroom and replay every word they'd spoken. He couldn't let her do that, not in her current state of agitation and denial. She'd cling to her damn list and justify a bad decision.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked her, knowing he had absolutely nothing to lose now, given that he was on the verge of losing everything.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered, the falsehood of her words ringing loudly despite the softness of her voice.

"You sure there, Ang?" Tony held her more tightly against himself, her back flush with his chest. He closed his eyes a moment and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair; vanilla and strawberries. He felt the soft cashmere of her dress, letting his hand caress the gentle slope of her left hip.

"What …what … are you doing?" she asked.

"Shhhhh," he hushed.

She was so close, lightly shuddering against him but not fighting to run up the stairs anymore. Tony swept her hair to the side and placed his mouth against her neck, merely making contact with her soft skin. He moved his lips to the tender spot behind her ear and placed a gentle kiss there. Angela began to tremble but she remained rooted to the floor and leaned her head back, exposing her throat. Tony trailed small kisses across her jaw and down her neck, emboldened by Angela's quiet acquiescence. His senses were heightened; he was too aware of the feel and scent of her. And now he was tasting her. He nipped and sucked her exposed neck, gently trailing his fingers down her throat.

Angela's knees were ready to give out. She leaned against Tony for support and felt his erection pressing into her backside. They both moaned at the contact …

 _ **A/N: Ok folks, I'm not being wicked but I do have to change the story's rating to M for the next chapter. So please adjust your settings and "follow" the story so you don't miss out. Oh and reviews are always appreciated.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Ok, so hopefully you've adjusted your settings and found this story in the M section. Again, I highly recommend you read Chapter 3 of my story, Those Awkward Moments. It's referenced again in this chapter.**_

Angela froze when her backside bumped Tony's obvious arousal. She drew a shaky breath, and the moan that followed matched Tony's. His lips were hot on her neck and the hand that had been stroking her hip had now inched its way toward her belly. His ministrations felt beyond delicious, yet the cloud of confusion that accompanied his unexpected actions caught her off guard. She was helpless and completely aroused. She waited for his next move with baited breath, afraid that if she spoke, she'd break the spell they were under. For none of this seemed real.

Tony's hand massaged her tummy and slid up to the underside of her breast. Gently, he fondled her through her dress until his entire hand covered one breast. Angela gasped and began to turn her head around so she could face him. His mouth was on her jaw and when she moved, his lips easily slid over hers.

Her traitorous moan gave her away when he began sucking on her bottom lip. Her already weak knees now trembled with desire. When his tongue began opening her mouth, then dart in, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him even closer to her. She completed the turn toward him and was now chest to chest with him, though in doing so she'd lost his hand on her breast.

Finally regaining her senses, she broke the kiss. Through ragged breaths, she tried to formulate words. "What …why …Tony …why?"

He gazed at her with dilated eyes, his cheeks flushed with want. "You asked for my advice," he exhaled on a breath.

"Advice?" Angela clung to the bannister for support, her separation from Tony a tangible loss.

Tony nodded. "You want my advice, I'm giving it to you," he said.

"I've never heard it called that before." Angela stumbled on wobbly legs to the sofa and sat down. "Tony, you kissed me. You … _touched_ me," she whispered. With wide eyes, she studied him as he sat beside her. They held each other's gaze for a moment.

"I did, and if I offended you, I'm sorry," he told her. His lips curled up into a smile and he gently grasped her hands in his.

"You don't look sorry," she noted.

"I'm not sorry _for what I did_. I'm sorry _if I offended you_ ," he clarified. "Did I offend you?"

Angela shook her head. "No, but you surprised me." She blushed beneath his gaze and looked down at their joined hands. "I still don't understand how that was advice."

"It's about passion, Angela," Tony declared.

"Passion?"

"You're basing one of the most important decisions of your life on a list. I don't see the passion that should exist between a couple in love. Do you and Geoffrey have passion?"

"I, er, passion? I don't know, Tony. What do you mean by that? Geoffrey and I aren't exactly passionate people. We're practical," she said.

Tony shook his head. "I know you're a passionate woman, Angela. I felt it just now, by the bannister. And when we kissed in the kitchen a couple of years ago. But if Geoffrey doesn't ignite that passion, is he the right man for you?"

A deep rose coloured blush crept up Angela's face.

Tony continued when Angela was silent. "Angela, I gotta ask you this …does Geoffrey satisfy that passion in you? Does he satisfy you?" He looked at her meaningfully.

"I can't believe you'd ask me that. Tony!"

"Oh please, you don't need to act so shocked. We're best friends here, no, more than that, we're family, Angela. And I've got nothing to lose, except for you. I got a feeling that Geoffrey doesn't exactly make you burn with desire or make your toes curl up afterwards," he said.

Angela tilted her head at his words. Tony was afraid of losing her. Why hadn't she thought of that? She swallowed hard and took in his open face, and the affection in his eyes. Her own eyes became moist in response and she bit her lower lip.

"Does he rock your world, Angela? Or does he leave you wanting more? Is being with him kinda like eating sardines?"

"Sardines!? Where did that come from?" she replied with a small giggle.

"'Cause, sardines! I get the feeling Geoffrey is a sardine kind of lover," Tony told her.

"Tony, I don't like sardines."

"Right."

"Oh."

Angela narrowed her eyes at him, wondering how he could possibly know anything about her sex life. Was it written on her face? Had he heard anything? She gasped. "Oh my God, at the Fairfield Inn, you listened in," she accused him.

Now it was Tony's turn to turn beet red. "I, um, er, I may have heard something through the bathroom pipes," he admitted, turning away from her now.

"I can't believe this," she said.

"Can we talk about what matters here?" Tony said, his voice pleading and desperate. "I'm sorry I overheard, Angela, but then again, I'm not. 'Cause now I know. I know that he's a lousy lover and he doesn't satisfy you. Does he know how to be generous in bed?"

"So, we're actually having this conversation?" Angela blinked and took a deep breath.

"You're marryin' him. You sure you want that? Or did he get better?"

Angela fixed Tony with an unblinking stare. No, Geoffrey had not gotten any better. In fact, he was the worst lover she'd ever had. Angela hadn't had much experience in her life. Michael had been her first, and after that, Grant. Now, Geoffrey. But at least Michael and Grant had known how to satisfy her. For some unknown reason, Geoffrey simply didn't have a clue. She'd tried to explain to him where to touch her, but he'd acted as though it was an imposition, or something awkward and uncomfortable. His uneasiness had made Angela embarrassed and she kept quiet now, letting her fiancé make love to her in the way that he liked. It was all very vanilla and dull. He'd kiss her, then fondle her breasts. After that, he'd neatly fold his clothes in a pile by the bed and assume a missionary position. The act itself usually lasted about two minutes, after which time, he'd groan and roll off of her. Angela got nothing out of it, nothing at all. She cast her eyes down at her feet and sniffled.

"Hey, you okay?" Tony lifted her chin with his fingers and saw the tears swimming in her eyes. "What's wrong? Did I overstep?"

"Did you overstep?" Angela let out a mirthful laugh. "You sure as hell overstepped, but if that's where you're going, you might as well finish what you started." She looked at Tony and said, "You got it right. Geoffrey doesn't know how to satisfy me. Are you satisfied?"

"No, I'm not satisfied," he said. "Not if you're not _satisfied_ , if you know what I mean."

"Yes, I know what you mean," she said, her tone mildly sarcastic.

"Hey, don't get upset with me …I want you …I want you to be satisfied," he told her.

If their conversation made Angela uncomfortable, she was past the point of worrying about it. "Geoffrey doesn't know what he's doing. And he doesn't listen to, er, instructions," she told him.

Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Angela, you're not gonna be happy with that. List or no list, if your husband- to-be leaves you cold, making those little Wells heirs isn't gonna be any fun." With a bit of levity, he tried to dispel the seriousness of the moment, but he wasn't about to change the subject. "Earlier, near the stairs, were you enjoying it?"

Angela flushed and licked her lips. "You caught me by surprise," she said.

"Does that mean you didn't enjoy it?" he asked her in a husky voice. Tony moved closer to her on the couch and cupped her cheek. He pressed his forehead against hers, and their breaths mingled. "I can satisfy you, Angela," he whispered against her mouth.

Angela let out a little whimper and placed her hand on his solid chest, unsure if she wanted to push him away or simply feel his muscles. She smoothed her fingers over his pecs and slid her hand around his neck, fingers splayed against the warmth of his neck. "You'd be crossing a line," she warned him, before pressing her lips against his neck.

Now it was Tony's turn to be surprised. He clung to her, lost in the feel of her mouth against his neck. She was mimicking the moves he'd done to her earlier, placing soft kisses all over his neck and jaw. Tony grasped her by the shoulders and held her away from him so he could look at her. "That line? It's crushed. We're dancing on it," he told her, as he brought his face closer to hers. His mouth hovered over hers for a couple of seconds before crashing onto it.

When they pulled apart for breath, she replied, "The line is dead."

"I want to satisfy you," Tony groaned between heavy breaths and kisses.

Angela responded by throwing her arms around him and kissing him more passionately. She wanted this, wanted him, urgently, desperately, now.

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day. I dedicate this chapter to fellow writer Marble Lion, who double dared me to write the most M chapter I could.**_

Angela was losing herself to Tony's touch, his hot kiss like flames upon her mouth, devouring her. Any thought of Geoffrey had long since disappeared from her conscious mind. Tony's mouth was relentless upon hers, his tongue dancing with her own. Their teeth clashed almost violently, yet his lips remained soft and plump against hers. Tony had indeed roused the passion that Angela had hinted at, but never fully allowed to ignite. When Tony fanned the ember with his ardor, he unleashed an inferno. Said inferno was now reclining on the couch, pulling Tony down with her as they remained attached by their lips.

Tony propped himself up with his arms so he wouldn't crush Angela beneath himself. His kisses elicited soft moans from her every so often, and he could feel himself becoming harder with each erotic sound she made. "Angela," he panted, pulling his mouth off hers with an audible pop.

"Don't stop," she groaned. She grabbed another fistful of his hair and pulled his face toward hers again but he stopped when their mouths were a mere inch apart.

"I'm not gonna stop, but I want to satisfy you," he huffed out. "I'm not gonna last much longer here."

Angela raised her head and looked at his crotch, noting the large bulge in his pants. Her eyes widened and she ran her tongue over her swollen lips. "I can help you with that," she said. Her hands reached for him but he pulled his lower half away from her.

"It's not about me. Tonight is about you. I can take care of that later," he told her, though it pained him. His erection strained against the zipper of his dress pants and caused him discomfort. "I'm just gonna give myself a bit more room if you don't mind," he said, somewhat discomfited by his predicament. When Angela nodded, he undid the button and fly of his pants, giving his erection the space it needed. It was now pointing directly at Angela through grey boxer briefs.

Angela gasped and a red hot flush made its way up her cheeks. All she could think of was how much she wanted to feel him inside of her, with his weight on top. She felt a surge of wetness at the mere thought of how intense his thrusts would be, powered by raw animalistic strength and how he'd fill her so completely. Angela began to pant. "Want …Tony …need," she pleaded.

"You want to feel good?" he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her cheek. "I want to satisfy you, Ang. You deserve it," he continued. "Can I touch you?"

Angela nodded, all coherent speech having vacated her brain with Tony's words.

Tony knew he needed to make an impression on her tonight, if he was to obliterate any attachment to Geoffrey. Possibly losing Angela forever to a lousy marriage had forced him to pursue her so fiercely tonight. He wanted to hear her cry his name. But in his mind, he drew a line, no actual sex. He'd bring her to orgasm with his hands and mouth, he decided. As for his own release, a cold shower and his right hand would have to suffice. He wouldn't sleep with her until she broke up with Geoffrey. _Unless_. No, _until_.

He watched her now, admiring the high pink colour in her cheeks, eyes darkened by arousal, lips red and tender from their passionate kisses. He knelt between her legs and bent down to kiss her again. His left hand caressed her breast until the hardened tip pushed through her clothes. "Can I push this down?" he asked. He helped Angela sit up and unzipped her dress. She was warm and soft in his hands, and when the thin blue cashmere slipped down her shoulders, she trembled. Tony treasured her lace clad breasts and began fondling them again. He reached around and undid her bra strap, then waited a beat in case Angela changed her mind, but she continued to gaze at him with unfocused dilated eyes. Her mouth hung slightly open, as she exhaled softly. Tony flung the bra on the floor and focused his attention on her small, well-made breasts. They were pert and perfectly shaped like champagne coupes, the tips rosy and hard. With his hands, he caressed her, letting her hardened nipples tickle his palms.

"They're so perfect," he said, in awe. His lips followed his fingers, and when he put an entire nipple in his hot mouth, gently sucking on it, Angela's back arched toward him. She wrapped her arms around his head and pressed him closer to her.

"Oh god," she moaned. His tongue drew circles around her nipples, first the left one, then the right, then he moved back to the left, teasing her with his teeth. Angela felt a liquid heat between her legs and she unwittingly widened them, until her left leg fell off the couch with a light thud.

"I think you're ready for more," he said, waiting for consent. Angela nodded again.

Tony shifted his lower half and took a deep breath. He had to last long enough to give her the satisfaction he'd promised her. If he had an accident now, it would ruin everything. Yet, he knew the next part would arouse him even more, if that was possible, since he was already close to exploding.

He kept his mouth affixed to her breasts, alternating between them. Angela's fingers were now clawing at him and her eyes were tightly screwed shut. The flush on her face was even deeper and had moved down to her neck. She was more than ready. While his mouth was busy, he moved his hands up her thighs, lifting her skirt up. She was wearing stockings instead of pantyhose; he couldn't believe his luck. He inched his hand further and further up her soft inner thigh, until he could feel the heat from her core. "You're so hot, Ang." She made an incoherent noise and he continued toward her center, until his hand made contact with the lace of her panties.

For a moment, he didn't move. He kept his hand on her mound, and rested his head against her bare breasts. "Should I keep going?" he choked out.

"Yes, Tony, yes …"

Angela was becoming restless and she raised her bottom half off the cushions. "Take them off," she told him.

Tony swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood. He couldn't come now, not yet. First he had to take care of Angela, but he had to use all of his restraint to keep his painfully erect member out of it. He tugged at her panties, noting that they were wet. He smiled to himself and slid them down her legs, then flung them away to join the discarded bra.

Angela was so far gone that when the room's cool air hit her overheated intimate area, she put her hand to cover herself. Tony licked his lips, thinking it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. "Do you want to touch yourself?" he asked, knowing that women knew their own bodies best.

"I'd rather you do it," she said. She spread her legs further apart and Tony hiked her skirt above her waist. He closed his eyes for a moment, overcome by the eroticism of this moment. Angela was revealed to him, and receptive. He took a deep breath and touched her lightly, teasing the damp curls at her apex. An incredibly sexy sound burst from her lips and she began to pant.

Tony wanted to take his time but he sensed that they were both so close to the edge. He pushed her thighs apart further and inhaled the aroma of her arousal, a musky, feminine scent that was uniquely Angela. With trembling hands, he stroked her mound, then moved his fingers down her wet folds and back up again, teasing and touching her. He thrust a finger inside, followed by a second one, and pushed them in and out of her tight, hot center.

Angela responded by throwing her head back and forcing her hips into the air. Her most sensitive spot bumped into Tony's calloused fingers and they both gasped. "There, Tony," she cried.

Tony found the hard little nub and rubbed, then held it between his thumb and forefinger, and began tapping it, all the while caressing her breasts with his other hand.

Angela was practically off the couch, her dress bunched up around her waist. With Tony's hand on her breasts, and the other one teasing her below, she thought she might become airborne. She whimpered and called his name.

She was on the brink, so Tony pulled back a bit and let her catch her breath. He moved his head down and began kissing her right inner thigh. Angela peered down at him, her mouth open and eyes wide like saucers. Geoffrey had never, ever used his mouth. "Oh my god," she screamed when Tony's mouth closed over her stimulated spot. Tony kissed her there, and began sucking, licking and humming against her, the low vibration of his voice pleasuring her.

"Tony, please," she begged, as she grasped his head and pushed it down. "Don't stop."

Tony obliged her, and continued his oral assault on her, increasing the intensity and pressure. Angela's moans, gasps and shortened breaths told him she was close. "Come for me, Ang," he told her. "Come on, baby." He used his fingers to increase the speed of his manipulations, and thrust his fingers into her again. She was coming undone, falling over the edge. A wave of pleasure detonated in her belly and coursed through her entire body. She cried out his name in ecstasy when her walls clenched around his fingers. Tony admired her in the throes of her orgasm; she was completely out of control and beautiful.

Angela fell back on the sofa and went limp, too sated to move.

Tony pulled her skirt down to cover her nakedness and caressed her breasts one last time before pulling the top of the dress up. "Are you okay?" he asked. Her face was flushed and beads of perspiration had appeared on her forehead.

"Ummm, I'm more than okay," she said with a contented sigh.

"What about you?" she asked, aware that his huge arousal had only gotten bigger.

"I'm going to take care of that, don't worry. Tonight, I wanted to pleasure you. You're a very passionate woman, Angela. And you deserve to be satisfied."

"Uh huh."

Tony smiled. "You rest now. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I never knew it could be like that."

"It can be like that every night, Angela," he told her. "With me."

 _ **A/N: I made it under the midnight deadline for Marble Lion's Valentine's gift. Ooooof. . just under the wire. Happy Valentine's Day, dear readers.**_

 _P.S. I should probably mention that I'm married to Marble Lion_.

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

Angela felt guilty. Once the afterglow from Tony's ministrations had receded, the remorse had begun. She couldn't believe how far she'd gone with Tony, while still engaged to Geoffrey. Angela blinked hard at last night's memories of Tony's hot mouth on her neck, her lips, and then on her …

"Angela!" Mona's voice startled her out of her reverie. They were having an early breakfast before heading to the office to meet a client. Mona's resentment of having to work on a Saturday morning accounted for her grouchy mood.

"What is it Mother?"

"Telephone. It's Mother Wells." Mona handed the receiver to her spaced out daughter.

Angela warily took the phone, wondering if Geoffrey's mother was going to ask her about her fertility or age again. "Hello Mrs. Wells," she answered the phone with her pleasant, work voice. Mona listened in, hearing only Angela's side of the conversation.

"Uh huh, oh, today? I see … um, well I'm meeting with my client this morning in the city. Uh huh. . yes, um. . this afternoon? (pause) I see but it's not terribly convenient. (long pause) Er, yes I know we'll be in the city already but_ (very long pause) Oh, in that case, I'd better check." Angela held the receiver against her shoulder and looked at her mother.

"What does the old bat want?" Mona asked, a bit too loudly.

"Mother! Shhh," Angela admonished. "Mother Wells wants us to go to Kleinfeld's to look at wedding gowns this afternoon since we'll already be in the city."

Mona grimaced and shook her head.

"Yes, Mrs. Wells. Mother can come with us," Angela replied into the receiver, speaking on behalf of her mother. "Right, three o'clock. We'll see you then."

After Angela hung up the phone, Mona turned on her. "Why the hell did you say I could come?"

"I …" Angela faltered beneath her mother's livid gaze. "I couldn't think of an excuse. She was very insistent. She wouldn't take no for an answer, and she personally knows one of the dress consultants at Kleinfeld. She had the man rearrange his schedule for us."

"You're as bad as Geoffrey, letting that woman walk all over you!" Mona exclaimed in a huff. "I wonder if she's going to start tracking your menstrual cycle now, and telling you when to have sex with her son."

"Mother, there's no need to be so crass!"

"Angela, I don't want to go wedding dress shopping." Mona crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted out her chin. "I don't care how insistent the old fart was."

"But you're my mother," Angela cried, the hurt obvious in her voice.

"Whoa, whoa, what's with the commotion in here?" A bleary-eyed Tony made his way into the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee maker. He poured himself a cup and took a few sips while eying the women in front of him. He hadn't slept well; his mind hadn't been able to let go of last night's erotic tryst with Angela, and his own arousal had been almost impossible to subdue. Every time he visualized what they'd done, he'd become hard again and sleep simply wouldn't come. He was overcome with recollections of their passionate kisses, her flushed skin, and the taut, pink nipples in his mouth. Tony closed his eyes a moment, but the image of her with her skirt hiked up, creamy white thighs flung apart, her sex fully exposed, rendered him dazed and aroused. He had to stop thinking of her heat, her scent, her taste. He felt himself hardening instantly and quickly conjured images of roadkill. A deep blush ran up his cheeks, and when he opened his eyes to look at her, Angela cast her eyes down, the crimson in her cheeks matching his.

In an attempt to regain his bearings, he took a sip of hot coffee, which only worsened his flushing. As casually as he could, he asked the two women, "Why are you ladies fighting?"

"No reason." Angela stood up and avoided looking Tony in the eye. "Mother is annoyed that we have a client meeting on a Saturday morning."

"That, and Mrs. Wells is bossing us around. Angela just signed me up for an excruciating afternoon of wedding dress shopping with that old goat."

"What?" Tony gaped and almost spilled his coffee. He narrowed his eyes at Angela. "You're gonna shop for wedding dresses?" His voice broke on the question mark.

Angela couldn't face him. She busied herself with her briefcase and pretended to tidy files so she wouldn't have to face his hurt puppy dog eyes. "She was very pushy and insisted," Angela claimed, her voice defensive and high.

"Uh, Mona, could you give us a sex? A sec?" Tony wrung his hands together, his fingers twisting and popping. He gave Mona a look that could only be described as frantic.

"Everything ok, Tone?" she asked, concern emanating from her sharp blue eyes.

His only response was a quick shake of his head. Mona noted that Tony's Adam's apple was bobbing up and down, and she wondered if he was about to cry. She gave her daughter a reproving look and headed into the living room. "I'll wait for you in there, Angela."

The kitchen door swung closed behind Mona, leaving behind a thick silence. Tony broke it first, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet room. "You can't even look at me."

Angela's head shot up. She met Tony's eyes and flinched at the raw pain reflected there. "Tony," she whispered. She caught her bottom lip in her teeth and bit hard.

"I can't believe you're gonna shop for wedding gowns," he stated, unable to keep the tremor out of his words.

"Mrs. Wells just called and roped me into it," she said, while looking down at the table. "It'll only be for a couple of hours," she said. "I'll be home for dinner."

"That's not the point, Angela." Tony moved in and grasped her upper arm. "Does this mean you're going through with the wedding? What about last night?" His breath was warm against her cheek.

Angela faltered and grasped the back of the kitchen chair, anchoring herself with it. She couldn't speak or move.

"Dammit, Angela, answer me," he commanded.

She turned toward him with trepidation and swallowed hard. "I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do," she said.

Tony released her arm, and fell into the chair beside Angela's. He buried his face in his hands. "You don't know?" he mumbled. "What about last night? Didn't that mean anything to you?" He lifted his eyes to hers and fixed her with a piercing stare.

Angela sunk into her chair and sighed. She made as though to grasp Tony's hand but his body language suggested that he might not be open to her touch and she retreated her fingers. "Last night was … uh …really…um, nice."

"Nice?" His eyes shot up at her choice of words. "Nice, Angela. Nice?"

"Ok, not nice. I mean, what I mean," she babbled all flustered now. "It was special and it felt so good at the time, Tony."

"What does that mean, _at the time_?" Tony's eyes widened and he exhaled sharply. "Are you saying you regret it?"

Tears sprang to Angela's eyes and she grasped his bicep. "I don't know, Tony. Maybe we weren't ready for that sort of thing between us. Last night, we got carried away and couldn't stop … I didn't want you to stop."

Tony clenched his teeth and looked away from her. "But now you do regret it."

"I'm engaged to another man. What we did … it was cheating."

He wanted to tell her that it wasn't cheating, not when he'd been in love with her first. Not when she wasn't even married anyway, and could still back out of it. He wanted to declare his love for her and beg her not to marry Geoffrey but he couldn't speak. A painful lump had formed in his throat, and he feared that opening his mouth might make him cry. He would not cry in front of her. Instead, he pursed his lips tightly and nodded. He didn't look at her as he exited the kitchen.

 _ **A/N: Dear reader, please trust me. Reviews please! I know there are some WTB? readers still out there.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews guys. Your support for this story has been wonderful.**_

The afternoon at Kleinfeld's dragged. Mona, true to herself, had refused to attend, her anger towards Angela making her lash out in sarcastic comments all morning. Ultimately, the two women's frustration with each other had come to a head and they were no longer speaking. Angela was alone with Mrs. Wells at the bridal gown shop, and she deeply regretted her decision to show.

"Try the other gown on again," Mother Wells ordered. They were in a private dressing room, where the older woman insisted on staying, not giving Angela any privacy.

"Which gown?" Angela rubbed her temples and sighed. She was tired, hungry and a headache was beginning to form in the band above her eyes. She sat on the small dressing room banquette surrounded by frilly, lacy white garments.

"The one with the high neckline. Really, Angela, you seem quite distracted, dear."

"That one? It didn't fit properly," Angela said. She'd hated the unflattering dress, and frankly didn't feel quite right wearing pure white for a second wedding.

"I want to see it on you again," Mother Wells insisted. "They have seamstresses to fix the fit."

Angela shook her head. After two hours of trying on gowns, she only wanted to go home. Home, where Tony was. An image of Tony's hurt expression flitted in her mind's eye and she cringed. Tony. She should never have let him go down on her like that. What had she been thinking? She hadn't been thinking; she'd been feeling, reacting, wanting. Tony's eroticism had been a visceral, living thing, commanding her own passion-fuelled desire to respond. It'd always been there, beneath the surface, heated, electric, wisps of it pushing through their barriers from time to time, only to be shut down. The only time they'd let their guard down previously was during that kitchen birthday kiss. Alcohol had weakened their defenses but Tony had come to his senses for both of them. He'd wanted her to remember. She remembered last night vividly.

The carnal pleasure that Tony had awakened in her was new. He had given her the strongest, most potent orgasm she'd ever experienced, and its aftershocks had rocked her long after he'd gone to bed, leaving her on the sofa with nothing but her thoughts and fantasies. She'd wanted to follow him up to his bedroom, but her legs had been useless limp noodles. She'd wanted to satisfy him too, but he'd made it about her only. He'd done it _for_ her, to show her what her body was capable of feeling. He'd shown her just how inadequate Geoffrey was in bed.

Angela pondered; had that been Tony's only intention? Or was there more behind his oral seduction? He didn't want her to marry Geoffrey, that much was clear. But was it because he wanted her for himself, or merely to maintain the status quo of their relationship? Then again, after last night, the status quo had been demolished.

"I've got to go!" Angela announced suddenly. She stood up, flinging sample gowns off her lap.

"Excuse me?" Mother Wells pulled herself up to her formidable height and looked down her long nose at Angela. "You've only tried on eleven dresses, and rejected every single one. Do you know what favours I had to call in to get you an appointment here on such short notice? This is Kleinfeld's!"

Angela surveyed her surroundings, the small crystal chandelier above her, couture gowns strewn about her feet, and a panelled mirror before her. She stared into it for a moment. The reflection of a tired, sad woman stared back.

"I'm sorry, Mother Wells but I need to get home. We've been here for almost two hours, and I promised my family I'd be home for dinner."

"But you haven't chosen a gown, or even narrowed down the selection yet," the older lady huffed out. "At least try on three more and then you'll have a better idea."

Angela shook her head. "I'm sorry but I can't. If I don't catch the five thirty train, I'll never make it home in time. My kids need me."

"Kids?"

"Well yes, um, Samantha is like a daughter to me." Angela avoided Mother Wells' disapproving gaze. "When we eat dinner, we all eat together."

"Isn't that special?" Mother Wells pursed her lips and crinkled her nose. "And where exactly will my son fit into this ready-made family? And what about your future children together? Are you also planning to raise them together with your … housekeeper's daughter?"

Angela turned on her heel and gaped at Geoffrey's mother. "I can't believe you asked me that," she choked out, aghast. "Samantha is not Cinderella. She's my surrogate daughter. If anything were to happen to Tony, I'd continue raising her. I love her."

Mother Wells' perfectly plucked eyebrows rose sharply. "I think I'm beginning to understand."

"Good."

"No, it's not good, Angela. If you're this vested in your housekeeper's daughter, I can only begin to imagine what role her father plays in your life. He's a handsome man, and quite charming. You two live together and you're raising your children together like one big happy family. I don't see that there's much room for my son in this scenario." Her lips disappeared into a thin, harsh line and she sniffed loudly. "Perhaps it's best if you leave now." The old woman's voice was cold and thin, and judgement emanated from her every pore.

Angela stepped back and wrapped her arms around her waist, warding off the chill in the small room. "I'm uh, going to change back into my regular clothes now," she said. She opened the dressing room door to usher Mother Wells out. Her heart was hammering unpleasantly in her chest and her mouth was dry.

"Don't think my son won't hear about this," Geoffrey's mother threatened. "He's clueless about you and where your priorities lie."

"Geoffrey knows me well," Angela said weakly. "He knows Tony and the children. It's not up to you to meddle in our affairs."

"Interesting choice of word … _affair_." Mrs. Wells exited the dressing room but turned back around, startling Angela. "My son can do better than you, _dear_. He needs a woman who can devote herself to him completely, unburdened by existing children or a fledgling agency. I'm going to make sure he knows it."

"Oh, I'm sure you are!" Angela clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at the old woman. "You've got him completely under your thumb, don't you? Does he do everything you say?"

Mother Wells' eyes popped open in shock. "He's my son. He listens to me."

"Then you can keep him!" Angela slammed the dressing room door in the old woman's face. Her hands were trembling. She hated that woman, hated her with every fibre of her being. The controlling, manipulative bitch would never cease to stick her meddlesome nose in her business. Angela huddled in the corner of the dressing room and sank to the floor. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath, which had become erratic and shallow. And she knew. She knew that she could not marry Geoffrey. The old hag was right about one thing; Angela's priorities did not lie with Geoffrey. Never had, and never would. Her priorities were Johnathan, her housekeeper's daughter, and her housekeeper's daughter's father. Tony. She needed to see Tony now.

In a flurry of impatient haste, she threw her clothes on, and bolted from Kleinfeld's. She was vaguely aware of her personal shopping assistant calling after her, but she ignored him. Nothing else mattered and no distraction would prevent her from rushing home to Tony. She needed him, she realized. He was the man she wanted to come home to, share her suppers with, her secrets with, and her bed with. She was going to hurry home and throw her arms around him. She was going to beg him for forgiveness and kiss him senseless. She was going to repay him in pleasure. She was going to tell him she loved him.

* * *

By the time Angela got home, she was sweating and panting. She'd run from the train to the parking lot, then driven like a maniac. It was almost six o'clock and the family would be sitting down to dinner. But first, she needed to take Tony aside and tell him everything.

She flung the front door open and ran into the house. "I'm home!" Nothing. Silence. Angela sniffed the air but no welcoming aroma of food greeted her. Pledge and Pinesol were the only scents in the air.

"Hello?" she called again, ignoring the unpleasant flutter in her tummy. "Kids? Tony?"

"No, just me." Mona appeared from the kitchen, munching on pizza.

"Where is everybody?"

"Samantha is at Bonnie's. Jonathan is upstairs doing homework. I'm here. There's takeout pizza in the kitchen."

"Pizza? But what about dinner? Didn't Tony make dinner? Where is he?" Angela blinked rapidly, unable to process.

"He's in Brooklyn, Angela."

"But …but …" she stammered.

Mona eyed her daughter shrewdly. "I don't know what happened between you two, but Tony wasn't himself. Said he was going to meet up with the guys and spend the night in Brooklyn."

"Oh." Angela dropped onto the couch and sighed deeply.

Mona sat next to her. "Care to tell me what's going on?" she prodded.

Angela looked at her mother with pain filled eyes. "I love him, Mother." Fat, unshed tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She wiped at them with the back of her hand.

"Well duh. Did you only realize that now?"

"Yes, no, I don't know. But I need to see him." Angela's voice broke and her tears began to fall freely down her cheeks. "I hurt him and I need to tell him I'm sorry. I need to see him, Mother."

"You did hurt him, Angela." Mona placed her hand over her daughter's slim fingers. "But you can make it right."

Angela nodded and sniffled.

"I take it you're not going to marry Geoffrey," Mona said.

"No, I'm not. But I can't deal with him right now." Angela took the tissue her mother offered and dried her face, then blew her nose loudly. "I need to see Tony first."

"Go to him, Angela. Go to him. I'll watch the children."

"But I don't even know where he is," she cried.

"He's in the old neighbourhood, Angela. Just follow your heart and you'll find him."

Angela nodded and stood up. "I wish I'd followed my heart in the first place." She faced her mother, dark eyes shimmering. "I hope it's not too late."

 _ **A/N: Conclusion coming soon. . please review.**_


	8. Chapter 8

It was raining when Angela drove into Brooklyn. Even with the windshield wipers turned to high, the downpour made visibility difficult. Angela squinted in the darkness, her vision hindered by the streetlights reflecting off the wet streets. She passed by Mrs. Rossini's street but saw no blue van. Thinking she may have missed it, she doubled back around the block more slowly this time. The impatient honks behind her forced her to speed up and again she wondered if she'd missed it. Taking the next turn off towards Tony's favourite eateries, she kept her eyes peeled for that blue van. _Please be here, please be here, please be here_ , she chanted to herself while blinking back tears.

* * *

Tony and Philly Fingers were playing pool at Marty's Melody Room. The dimly lit, smoke-filled bar was particularly busy this Saturday evening, and other patrons waited impatiently for the pool table.

"I'm gonna sink the orange ball into that side pocket," Philly declared, taking his sweet time. He ambled around the table, peering at the ball from various angles, sighing and thinking.

Tony rolled his eyes. "Take the damned shot already, will ya?"

Philly aimed, then missed. "Aw man. I thought I had that."

"Could you morons be any worse at this game?" a frustrated onlooker asked. "You've been playing for over an hour. Me and my friend is waitin' here. It's our turn now, cause you two suck." The man was large and burly, his eyes glazed over from too much booze. He reeked of cigarettes and sour body odor. His friend was skinny, face littered with acne, little red crusts and big yellow pustules covering every inch of his skin.

Tony had been pointedly ignoring the rude man's taunts for the past twenty minutes. But nobody told him that he sucked at pool. Three pints of stout combined with poor sleep, and his emotions running high over Angela pushed him over the edge. "Ay oh, oh ay!" He took another swig of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Who did you say sucks at pool?" He took a few menacing steps towards the annoying man.

The large, smelly man sniffed loudly and balled his fists. " _You_ suck it, asshole. You _and_ shorty here." The man walked over to Philly and flicked his hat off his head. "Look at this stupid hat, Greg." Phil bent down to pick it up but the man kicked it away. Greg caught it. "Oooh, look, what a dorky hat. Catch it, John."

John caught it and threw it back to his friend. Philly was monkey in the middle, too short to catch his hat. "Guys, come on guys. Give me back my hat," he whined. John made as though to return the hat but then threw it high into the air.

"Give him back his hat, asswipe." Tony pushed the burly jerk aside and lunged for the hat. His muscled agility caught the stinky man and his pimply friend off guard and they let the hat drop to the floor. Tony bent down, his attention focused on the hat.

"Tony, look out!" Philly's warning came a split second too late.

The one called Greg whacked the back of Tony's head. As he was falling, the other one kicked him in the stomach and laughed as he fell in a heap at his feet. Tony clutched his belly and moaned. Philly and the two men stared down at him, making his humiliation complete. He took a deep breath and rolled over to a sitting position. In the nick of time, he saw the large man's foot aiming for his head and grabbed it with both hands, twisting fiercely. The man, John, lost his footing and landed with a loud thud, causing the floor to vibrate beneath his large frame.

"You son of a bitch!" John screamed. Tony jumped up and kicked the man in the jaw, reveling in the feel of his shoe connecting with solid bone. He turned to take on the one with the scabby face, fists ready, blood pounding in his ears and his heart racing.

"Not so fast, Micelli!" Marty, the owner ran over to the commotion. He frowned at big, smelly guy on the floor and gaped at Tony. "No fighting in my bar," he shouted.

Tony stilled and dropped his fists. "He was harassin' us. . . took Philly's hat," he said.

"So, what are you? Twelve?" Marty shook his head. "No fighting in my bar, Tony. Get out."

"What?" Tony stared at Marty incredulously and stomped his foot.

"Bar rules. Fighting means you leave, no exceptions. All of yous, go!" The two ugly men didn't need much more prodding. Marty had been a boxer and he was all muscle. Despite his white hair and wrinkles, he looked scary as fuck. They scrambled towards the exit, giving Tony and Philly dirty looks.

"Oh boy, it's pouring now!" Tony exclaimed as they stepped outside a few moments behind their tormenters. He felt completely humiliated having been kicked out by Marty. Marty, his supposed pal. He'd think twice before frequenting this bar again, he grumbled to himself.

"And you're parked how many blocks away?" Philly complained.

"Just shut up and walk," Tony said. "You didn't even lift a finger to help me, Mr. _Fingers_."

"What? They were bigger than me. And that guy with the zits, ew. Didn't want any of that pus getting on me."

Tony gritted his teeth and headed towards his van with Philly in tow. Both men squinted in the heavy rain, soaked through to their clothes now, in search of Tony's blue van.

* * *

Angela spotted the van and she felt almost dizzy with relief. She'd been driving around Brooklyn for hours waiting for her heart to lead her to Tony. In the end, it'd been her own logic, persistence and sheer dumb luck. After driving around his old neighbourhood in repetitive circles, she'd remembered that awful pub where she'd gotten into her first fistfight. She used that as her starting point, and drove further out, never straying too far from the center of his hood. The van shimmered like a mirage in the drenched streets, a streetlight illuminating it directly from above.

She looked for street parking nearby and lucked out with a spot about a block away. Grabbing her umbrella out of the Jaguar, she secured her purse to her body and hunkered down in the rain, making her way toward Tony's parked van. It began to rain even harder, so she hastened her steps, heedless of the crevices and deep grooves ahead of her. Her high heeled shoes were no match for the puddles in the sidewalk.

When her ankle twisted beneath her, she didn't register it immediately. The sensation of falling trounced any pain she felt. Valiantly, she tried to remain upright, but her high heel was stuck in a grate and when she lost her footing, her ankle twisted cruelly with a sharp turn inward, no longer supporting her weight. Though she only remained upright for about twenty seconds, the fall felt much longer, and Angela knew there was nothing she could do to keep from falling. She screwed her eyes shut and yelped as imminent contact with the pavement became inevitable.

She landed with a splash in a puddle-filled crevice, her heel still stubbornly caught in the street grate. Her palms were bloodied and filled with bits of gravel, as they had absorbed much of the impact.

"Oh bloody hell," she cried to nobody in particular. There were very few pedestrians out, given how hard it was pouring. A city bus drove past and splashed her with water from the street. Angela swore under her breath and removed her foot from the trapped shoe. She crouched beside the grate and yanked and yanked but the heel wouldn't give way. It was lodged between two grate bars at a bizarre angle.

"Hey Lady, you okay?" Two men approached her from the opposite direction. One was tall and burly, and the other one was skinny with very bad acne. She gasped upon seeing his face up close.

"My shoe is stuck," she said, pointing out the high heel. She made to stand but her bare foot had nowhere to land and her ankle was killing her. "Owwww," she moaned.

"Here, let me help you," the larger man said. He got close to her and grabbed her arm to help her stand. Angela wrinkled her nose at the stench of body odour and stale booze. The ugly faced one hunkered down on the pavement, grabbed at the shoe and twisted.

"John, this shoe is Ralph Lauren," the skinny one said. He looked Angela over, noting her expensive clothes and purse. "Is that purse a Chanel?" he asked.

Angela saw the greedy gleam in the man's eyes and the way he silently communicated with his partner. The one with a grip on her arm tightened it. "Chanel and Ralph Lauren? Hmmm, what's a rich broad like you doin' in this part of Brooklyn?"

Angela struggled to get her arm free and kicked the man with her suspended, shoeless, injured foot. She regretted it immediately when a sharp pain sluiced up her leg and made her gasp.

"That was a dumb move, lady," the smelly one said.

"Yeah," the zitty one stood up with her shoe in his hand. Its heel had broken off and fallen into the grate. "Guess this Ralph Lauren is worthless now," he said, eyeing the destroyed shoe.

"Give it to me," Angela said, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. The large one was holding her arm in a viselike grip and she couldn't put her injured foot down. She needed her broken shoe.

"Know what a smart move would be?" the ugly one said, his hideous face now completely in her personal space.

"You'd be smart to return my shoe!" Angela persisted.

"Here, fetch!" the man threw her shoe into the street.

Angela's eyes narrowed and her dark eyes flashed dangerously. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Making you work for it, bitch," pimple face said. "Rich people like you … make me sick." He spat on the sidewalk and watched as the rain washed away the spittle. "Take her purse, John," he told his large friend.

John smirked and let go of Angela's arm, then pushed her backwards. She fell into the same puddle as before and cried out when she landed on her already injured hip. While she struggled to stand, he tore her purse out of her arms and laughed. "Lookie here, I got us a designer purse," he giggled, before throwing it over to Greg.

"Stop it, give me back my purse," Angela shouted from her vulnerable place on the sidewalk. Her body began to tremble from both the soggy dampness and her fear. Tears stung her eyes and she sniffled.

"Aw, look, you made the rich bitch cry," zit face said with a raucous laugh. "You think you're some hot shit, lady? Nah, you look like a drowned rat." Greg opened the purse and dug around the contents.

"Fuck, yes!" he shouted.

"What?" John peered into the purse.

"Keys to a Jaguar! We hit the jackpot. Okay lady, where is it?"

"No, I took the subway," she lied. Angela glanced behind her frantically, hoping she'd walked far enough away from her Jag that it was no longer visible from here.

"Oh, it's back there, is it?" John taunted her. "Go up the street and look for that Jag," he ordered his friend. "Try the key in _any_ Jaguar you see. I'll keep an eye on this one, and on her purse."

Angela stood up and hopped over to her broken shoe in the street. She glared at John as she shod her injured foot. "You are not getting away with this," she spat out.

"No? You and what army are gonna stop me?" he laughed at her and grabbed her arm again. She struggled away from him, batting at his arm with her fist. He seemed to find her efforts hilarious because every punch made him giggle.

"Let go of her!" Tony and Philly, who hadn't been far behind heard the commotion and ran up from the parked van.

"Tony," Angela's knees went weak with relief. "His friend is stealing my Jag! Up the street!" She pointed in the direction from where she'd come.

"Philly, go after zit face. I got this guy." Tony sneered at the large, smelly man, his mouth twisted grimly. "You let go of her, now," he commanded. His voice was soft and chilling and he lunged at the man with incredible speed. Tony was grateful for his recent boxing match against Wilbur, the typing teacher. He'd trained a lot and was strong and swift. He threw a wicked punch at the man's face and watched in satisfaction as he stumbled back, forced to let go of Angela. Angela staggered away from him and limped off to stand behind Tony.

John threw a punch at Tony but he easily ducked it, and countered by ramming his head into the man's chest. The guy's rain enhanced B.O. made him gag but he continued fighting, landing strategic punches and defending himself against the larger man's blows. Given John's inebriety, it didn't take long for Tony to knock him down. When he tried to stand up, Tony fisted his hands and made as though to hit him again.

"No, please, no," the man begged. His nose was busted, gushing with blood and he could feel his eye swelling shut.

"Then get outta here before I call the cops!" Tony lunged at the man again then smirked at his retreating back. "So long, asswipe." He picked Angela's sodden purse off the ground and handed it to her.

"You okay?" he asked Angela. "Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she asserted. "They just wounded my pride. I twisted my ankle and fell. That's how they found me," she said, shamefaced.

"Your hands are bleeding," he said. He turned to her and inspected her palms. The rain wasn't falling as hard anymore and he held her hands out into the water. "Here, let the rain rinse them out for now. But you're gonna need some iodine and bandages." Deep concern emanated from his dark eyes as he cast them the length of her assessing for injuries. "How bad's the ankle?"

She was about to respond when Philly returned with Angela's car keys.

"I punched out pimple face," he declared proudly. Got him from behind; the bastard never saw me coming. "Here are your car keys, Angela."

"Thank you Mr. Fingers," she said.

"Yeah, no problem … uh, you wouldn't happen to be handing out a reward or anything?"

"Are you serious?" Tony grabbed the keys out of Phil's hand and pocketed them. "Go home."

"How the hell am I supposed to get home? I'm soaked here," the shorter man grumbled.

"Take my van; I'll get it in the morning," Tony said. "Angela and I will drive the Jag." He handed Phil his van keys. They watched Phil take off, then headed toward the Jaguar together. Tony kept a vigilant eye out for the pimpled face man but he was gone too. He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

"Those two jerks were at the bar," he explained to Angela. "We had a run in with them."

"They're monsters," Angela said, sagging against Tony as he helped her walk. When they arrived at Angela's car, Tony opened the passenger door for her and helped her sit down. He went around the front of the car and seated himself in the driver's seat.

Tony scrubbed his hand down his face and sighed. "I'm gonna take you to the hospital to have that ankle looked at," he told her. "I'm real sorry this happened to you." He paused and studied her, noting how drenched and miserable she looked. "Angela?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing in Brooklyn?"

"I was looking for you," she admitted.

He nodded and continued to look at her. "Come to tell me about your new wedding dress?" Tony was unable to keep the sarcasm and hurt from creeping into his voice. He'd had a terrible day and was in a foul mood.

Angela's eyes widened. "No." She placed her scraped hand on Tony's shoulder. "No. There isn't any dress." She locked her dark eyes on his. "There isn't going to be a dress. There isn't going to be a wedding."

Tony's head shot up. "What? You're not marrying him?" His heart began pounding in a crazed rhythm and he scarcely dared believe what he was hearing.

"No. I'm not marrying Geoffrey." Angela took his hand in hers, ignoring the pain in her palms. "He's not the man I can't live without." She brushed a wet lock of hair off her forehead and leaned her face close to Tony's. "You are."

 _ **A/N: Ok, dear readers. . I'll give you some more to this story because you asked so nicely. I know some of you want, er, a happy ending in more ways than one. It's coming, it's coming. . . .Oh, that's a pun too. Please review. The more reviews, the more motivated I am to update quickly.**_


	9. Chapter 9

"He's not the man I can't live without. You are."

Her declaration wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed. She was looking at him, sodden hair plastered to her head, mascara smudging her eyes like a raccoon, and the tip of her aquiline nose red from the cold. He'd never found her lovelier.

"You can't live without me?" he asked, needing to hear the words again.

"I can't. I won't." She swiped at her wet locks and pressed her forehead to his, heedless of the water dripping from his bangs. Her body trembled, but not from being waterlogged. "Tony, I …"

He swallowed her words with a kiss as he closed his mouth over hers. Tony's hand reached into Angela's wet hair and pulled her closer while he gently explored her lips with his own. When he pulled away, he asked. "What were you going to say?"

"I don't remember," she said.

Tony grinned at her and put his hand up to her pink cheek. "You're definitely not marrying Geoffrey?"

"No, I'm not." Angela placed her hand over his and squeezed his fingers. "I never should have accepted his proposal. I'm not in love with him."

"Maybe I should have yelled out somethin' when he proposed … ya know, to try and stop you? I was feelin' kinda desperate there, Angela."

"What, and climb up to my bedroom window while he was in there on one knee?"

"I should have! I should have spray painted it on your window! Shouted it from the rooftop, barged into the room and pushed him aside. I should have told you back then … uh, told you …" he trailed off, gulped loudly and looked down at his knees.

"Told me what, Tony?" Angela's heart began to pound and she swallowed hard.

He continued to stare at his knees, saying nothing.

"Tony?" she prodded.

"I should have told you that I'm in love with you!"

She beamed at him. "You're in love with me?"

He lowered his voice and gazed into her eyes. "You bet, come here."

Angela wound her arms around his neck and held him tightly, pressing her cheek against his. "I wish you'd told me," she whispered in his ear.

"When, Angela? While you were with Geoffrey? While I was scrubbin' your toilet?" He balled his fists and blew air out his nose. "How was I supposed to compete with a successful, rich guy? I'm your housekeeper, remember?" He disentangled himself from her grip and looked out the window.

"I don't care. You could have told me any time. And not just while they were prepping you for an appendectomy." She gave him a sidelong glance and smiled. "I know you remember."

He turned to face her again and his dark eyes on hers. "I wanted to admit it so badly, Ang. But I was scared. Scared of what it might mean if you didn't feel the same way."

"Oh Tony, I did. I do. I love you."

They stared at each other, the truth of her words reverberating in the car's quiet interior. Desire hung in the space between them, and their breathing sped up, causing the windows to fog up. "I want you so much," he groaned. "But I don't have much to offer you."

"That's not true, Tony. You give me so much." She caressed his face and lightly pressed her lips to his. "You are the best man I've ever known, the kindest, the funniest, the sweetest …"

"How about the handsomest?" he said with a smile.

"Of course the handsomest. Oh Tony, you are everything. You are the whole package. You're my best friend, Jonathan's surrogate father, and the man I can't live without." A slight flush rose up her cheeks as she added, "And the best lover I've ever had."

"You haven't had me yet, Angela." Tony furrowed his brow.

"Not completely, true. But what you did last night … it was, um, amazing. I've never felt like that before." Angela's blush deepened and she bit her bottom lip. "And I want us to make love, Tony. I want to give you pleasure too." The thought of making love to him made her heart beat faster, and a deep heat began to spread down below. She couldn't keep the previous night's images out of her head, of his dark head between her legs, pleasuring her. She still felt sensitive from his touch, and knew that she would come over and over again if he just touched her.

"Uh Angela, I need to take you to the hospital," Tony said, smashing her erotic train of though.

"Huh? What? Now?"

"You're injured, so yeah. I want to make love to you, Angela. I really, really do. But not until your sprained ankle there is taken care of, along with those nasty scrapes on your hands. First, I take care of you. And then …" Tony waggled his eyebrows at her. "Then I can really take care of you."

She met his implicit promise with dark, desire-filled eyes and nodded. "Alright, hospital first." She gave him a coy smile and grasped his hand. "And then, I'm holding you to your words, Micelli."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

 _ **A/N: Just a short chapter to tide you over. When I have more time, a more fulfilling chapter. Please R &R. Thanks! **_


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Dear reader, I know, I know, that last chapter was just such a tease. But I was in a hurry before work and trying to get something up there for you guys to read. Also, writing an M chapter (which you've made clear you all want) isn't that easy. You have to gear up for it. So easy for it to seem mechanical. And I don't want dearest Tony and Angela to ever seem like they're having mechanical sex. They're in love. I want to convey their emotions, their love, and their connection. Hope I'm doing that. So, here's the chapter you were all waiting for. And might I add that reviews are so very motivating?**_

"You're all patched up," Tony observed with relief. At the hospital, the ER doctor had disinfected Angela's wounds and wrapped her palms in gauze. She now sported a removable air cast on her sprained ankle, along with crutches, but using the crutches hurt the palms of her injured hands. They were heading toward the car in the hospital parking lot and Angela hopped slowly on her good foot while Tony supported her around the waist. It had finally stopped raining, and the air smelled fresh and clean.

"I can't believe I was almost mugged tonight. Of all nights," Angela lamented. She glanced down at her gauze wrapped hands and moaned.

"Are you in pain?" Tony looked at her with worry filled eyes. He pulled her more tightly against himself and grabbed her second crutch. "Lean into me; I'll hold you up."

"Thanks. There isn't much pain. It's just … well I'm so glad I found you tonight, Tony." Angela's eyes filled with tears. "If I hadn't found you, you'd still be thinking that I was going to marry Geoffrey. And I couldn't let you think that one second longer."

"I'm so glad you found me too," he said. They arrived at the car and he used his free arm to open the passenger door. "Here, sit down. Let me take your crutches. There ya go. You good?"

She nodded and leaned back into the leather seat. Tony put her crutches in the trunk of the car, and went around to the driver's seat.

"So, it's past midnight," he said. "If we head home now, it'll take us about an hour. But then, you'll have to drive me back to Brooklyn tomorrow to pick up the van." Tony sighed. "Not a great plan."

"Maybe Phil can drive the van to Connecticut?" Angela suggested. "Or keep it for a few days until I'm okay to drive you."

"That's doable," Tony agreed. "But what about tonight? You're tired. I'm tired. And we're hungry. Don't think I didn't hear that tummy of yours growling earlier," he added with a chuckle.

"I'm starving. But I look like a drowned rat," she said, echoing the words of her would-be mugger. "Can't go into a restaurant looking like this. Besides, what's open after midnight, except bars? I don't want to go to a bar."

"Agreed, no bars!"

Tony and Angela looked at each other pensively and were quiet for several moments. They felt a bit shy, afraid to voice what they truly wanted.

"Hotels have room service," Angela said bashfully. "And, um, we're not that far from the Comfort Inn." The words popped out of her mouth, their implicit meaning clear. She cast her eyes up at him, and they shimmered darkly with desire.

"You wanna go to a hotel for the night?" Tony asked. His tongue flicked out, moistening his full bottom lip, and he held Angela's eager gaze.

"It's late. I don't want to wake everybody at home. Besides, Mother's taking care of the kids. She told me to come find you. Trust me, she won't be upset if we don't come home tonight." Angela chuckled softly to herself.

"You know what Mona's gonna think if we're gone all night," Tony laughed.

"So? She won't be wrong, will she?" Angela laid her gauzy hand on Tony's forearm and lightly squeezed. Last night, Tony had woken a long dormant sensual fire within her. It continued to assert itself and flood her brain with erotic images. Memories of his skilled tongue doing things to her most intimate parts made her lower half throb with longing. Fantasy images of her and Tony tangled up in bedsheets, making love, pleasuring each other, touching …

Tony turned to face her squarely. "Are you up for that, Angela? I mean, your ankle has gotta hurt."

"I won't be using my ankle," she said in a husky voice. "We'll be lying down. So, if you're up for it …" she trailed off.

"Oh, I'm definitely up, er, for it," he said. Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat and peered down at his crotch. Angela followed his gaze.

"Oh my, you really are up for it," she teased him. "Just thinking about it did that?"

"Um, well yeah. It's you, Angela. But wait!" Tony took a deep breath. "Are we movin' too fast here? I don't want to rush you or anythin'."

Angela looked at him incredulously. "Tony, _you're_ the one who instigated things between us last night. You kissed me first … you _touched_ me." Angela placed her hand on his cheek and sighed. "You gave me a taste of what it's like to be with you, and now, I …" Angela paused and gazed into Tony's eyes. "And now, I want more. I want you, _all_ of you."

"Actually, I'm the one who got a taste last night," he said with a huge grin. He smiled at the deep blush that suddenly bloomed on Angela's cheeks.

"Tony!"

"Angela, I want more too. I've wanted you for so long, you got no idea."

"Tell me." Angela leaned in closely and tilted her head, waiting.

Tony nodded. "It goes way back, Ang. Remember when I walked in on you coming out of the tub?" Tony closed his eyes for a moment, visualizing the moment he'd seen her nude, out of the bath, all curves and glistening wet skin. "You were a Venus stepping out of that giant seashell."

"You mean the Botticelli painting? Venus' birth?" Angela's eyes widened in surprise at the comparison. "Wow, Tony, that's quite the compliment. Uh, thank you."

"Yeah, 'cept you're sexier." She'd had a tan, he remembered, a bikini tan left over from the summer before he'd met her. Her white breasts had stood out in contrast against her bronzed skin. And her long, lean legs had left him breathless with desire. She'd rendered him dazed and speechless that day, so used was he to seeing her in formal business suits with stiff shoulder pads, or in loose, unflattering sweats. Tony had had no idea what a beautiful body Angela had until that moment, three weeks after his arrival in Connecticut. "I couldn't stop thinking about you afterwards, Angela."

Angela flushed at the embarrassing memory. She'd been so horrified, so shocked and had wanted to hide. "But you weren't in love with me," she said.

"Not yet, no. I was attracted to you though. I fell in love with you a few months later."

"You did?" Angela was all bated breath and anticipation. "When?"

He smiled, and tucked a lock of tangled hair behind her ear. "When you helped me clean out my father's apartment our first Christmas together. Angela, you were there for me in a way none of my friends were. It was more than friendship then; we were beyond that. And later when we danced to my father's record collection, I realized I was in trouble. It wasn't just attraction anymore. I was in love with my boss." Tony touched his forehead to hers. "And that's why it slipped out before my appendectomy. It was right there, on the surface, all the time. I couldn't deny it because I had no inhibitions under sedation."

Angela closed her eyes and inhaled. "Oh Tony." More words eluded her. She wound her hands around his neck and stroked the short hair at his nape. "I'm so sorry for getting together with Geoffrey." Tears began to gather in her eyes and she blinked them away.

"Angela?" it was a whisper against her hair.

"Hmmmm?" she kept her eyes closed, relishing in the solid feel of him against her.

"When did you … you know, er, know you loved me?" Tony clenched his muscles, hoping it wasn't only a recent development.

"Jim Peterson," she said with a soft sigh.

"What?!" Tony pulled back from her, aghast. "What does that bum have to do with anything?"

"You threw him out of my party, remember? You were so angry with him and you defended my honor from his insults, even risked your job to save mine. That's when it hit me like a tonne of bricks."

"That you loved me?"

"Yes. I was crazy about you, Tony. Even when you made me that horrible garlic tea," she added with a small giggle.

"But then Michael came back," he said, frowning at the unpleasant memory. Handsome Michael back from the jungle, kicking him and Samantha out of their home so he could toy with Angela for less than a month. What a jerk.

"I'm so sorry. That must have been difficult for you." Angela shrugged, "But he was my husband; I thought I was doing the right thing."

"It was torture!" he admitted. Wait, you loved me too by then. Michael came after the party with Peterson." Tony looked at her in astonishment.

"One of the reasons it didn't work with Michael was that I kept comparing him to you, and he kept falling short. But I didn't know you felt the same way, Tony. I had no idea." She shook her head at the thought of all the missed opportunities. "All that wasted time," she lamented. "Tony, you still think we're moving too fast if we go to a hotel tonight?"

"No." He met her eyes with a solemn look and leaned in to kiss her. It was gentle and sweet, and when he pulled away, he said, "so, to the Comfort Inn?" Tony put the key into the ignition and turned.

"Yes, Tony. Yes."

* * *

A quick call to Mona, complete with teasing, and an embarrassing hotel check in without luggage were small obstacles to being together. Tony and Angela were revved up on desire and need, clinging to each other and kissing in the elevator as they made their way up to their room. Growling bellies, however, had demanded immediate attention. Now, empty plates littered the hotel room. Tony and Angela had ordered room service and scarfed down their late night sandwiches.

Freshly showered, with his belly full, Tony sat on the bed waiting. Angela was in the tub, taking a much needed bubble bath. Her dirty clothes hadn't fully dried and she'd been sitting in damp discomfort ever since her near-mugging. The pair had ditched their soggy garments for clean white hotel robes, and the laundry service had taken their wet things away to be cleaned.

"Hey Angela? You almost done in there?" Tony began to pace outside the bathroom door.

"Um …" Tony heard a loud thump followed by a splash. He burst through the bathroom door. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Angela looked like she was either on the verge of laughing or crying. She sat in the tub, her arms resting on the ledge. A big puddle of water was spreading over the bathroom floor.

"Angela?" Tony took two swift steps toward her, careful not to slip on the wet floor. "What happened?"

"I tried to get up, and I fell. Forgot that a sprained ankle can't support my weight," she said sheepishly.

"Oh geez, you could have been hurt. Let me help you." Tony held his hands out to Angela so she could pull herself up. "Easy does it, easy does it, use your good leg, that's right, I got you." He murmured words of encouragement as he pulled her up. "Ok, sit on the edge of the tub and swing your legs over. Can you do that?"

Angela nodded and did as Tony suggested. "A towel would be nice, though. I'm cold."

Tony grabbed a fresh towel off the wall rack and held it out to her. She began to grab it. "Wait," he gasped.

"What? What is it?" Angela was shivering and covered in goosebumps.

"My Venus, coming out of her shell again," he said. "Just admiring you." He cast his eyes down the length of her seated form and sighed. "More beautiful than I remember," he told her as he placed the towel over Angela's shoulders and wrapped his arms around her. They remained seated on the tub's ledge, he covering her with the big fluffy towel. He gently rubbed his hand up and down her back to warm her up. "Is that better?"

"Ummm, yes, that's nice, but my legs are still cold."

"Can't let anythin' happen to those perfect legs now, can we?" Tony reached over to the towel rack and grabbed a second one for her, then placed it over her legs. Angela rested her head on Tony's shoulder, and closed her eyes. She felt warm and drowsy, and only wanted to bury herself in his strength and scent.

"You fallin' asleep on me, Angela?" Tony kissed her temple and began leading her to the bed. "You wanna lie down? Get some sleep?" While disappointed, he could see that she was tired and could barely keep her eyes open.

"The bath made me sleepy. I'm sorry." She unleashed a deep yawn that made her bleary eyes water.

"Get some sleep, Angela. You had a traumatic evening." Tony held out a bathrobe to her. "Give me your wet towels and use this instead," he told her.

"No, it's okay. I don't want to sleep in a bathrobe, too bulky." Angela slid beneath the covers and let the wet towels fall to the floor. Tony's blinked a few times in surprise and gathered the towels.

"You coming to bed," she asked, her voice deep and husky from fatigue.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Tony finished hanging the wet towels in the bathroom and took a few quick steps toward the bed. Then, he simply stood there, admiring Angela's bare shoulder peeking out from the blankets. He couldn't decide if he should keep his robe on or not. They'd be asleep, that is if sleep could come to him while lying down next to a naked Angela. The robe was bulky to sleep in; she was right about that.

"Tony?" Angela turned in the bed to face him. "Coming?"

"Yeah, I'm in." He dropped the robe and let it fall off his muscular frame. Aware of her eyes on him, he could feel himself begin to flush. He lifted the covers on his side and began to climb in.

"Wait."

"What is it, Angela?"

"I want to look at you first. You've seen me, so it's only fair." Angela sucked in her bottom lip, then exhaled sharply. Beneath her gaze, Tony's member began to harden. She admired his muscled chest and abs, his solid legs and the growing manhood between them, nestled in a thatch of dark hair. Suddenly Angela was feeling very much awake. She sat up in bed and threw back the covers. "Maybe I'm not ready to go to sleep just yet," she said.

"Oh good, 'cause there's no way I'm falling asleep now," Tony replied. He sat on the bed and reached for her, cupping her face in his hands. She closed the distance between them and pressed her open mouth against his. Their kiss was passionate and searing, tongues dueling, and teeth clashing. Tony turned her head slightly to one side so he could deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to completely invade her mouth, tasting her. Angela could only hold on, and grasped his shoulders for support.

"I've wanted to kiss you like that for such a long time," she breathed out. "And after last night's kisses, I haven't been able to stop thinking about kissing you more. You make my knees go weak."

"You can kiss me all night," Tony told her. He placed his warm mouth on her collarbone and nibbled the soft skin there. His hand slid beneath the blankets and found her trembling knees. He began to ease his hand up her silky thigh, all the while sucking on her collarbone and neck. Tony's mouth found its way to Angela's right breast and he began kissing her taut nipple, sucking and nibbling on it. She shuddered against him, feeling a new slickness between the legs.

Tony pulled his mouth away and looked up at her. "You got me, Ang. Whatever you want to do."

In a frenzied heat, Angela threw the blankets off and stretched toward Tony, arching her back. Restlessness and excitement overtook her body and she needed to move. She looked at Tony and smiled, then placed her hands over the hard planes of his chest, smoothing her fingers over his pecs and firm shoulders. "You feel so good." She breathed her words into his ear, her hot breath caressing the side of his face. He shivered. Angela brought her mouth to Tony's chest and began kissing him, inhaling his scent and trailing her hands down his back. She squatted before him, making herself small, burying her face in his strength and masculinity.

Tony ran his hands through her still tangled hair and moaned when she began licking his nipples. He brought his hands down her back and lower, grabbing her round ass. He squeezed her cheeks and rubbed his hands over them, kneading and massaging her behind. His hands moved down her bent thighs and he kissed the top of her head. "Angela?"

She pulled away and looked into his eyes, seeing the passion that matched her own. They locked eyes, the air between them swirling with lust and want. He kissed her again and eased her back down on the bed to a lying down position, but she popped right back up again when they broke apart for breath. She pushed him down and moved to straddle him, careful of her ankle. She knelt, one leg on either side of him and ran her slick centre over his erection. They both gasped at the sensation. She repeated the motion over and over, increasing friction and pressure but it wasn't enough. Angela wanted Tony inside of her.

As if reading her thoughts, he lined himself up with her entrance and gently pushed himself in, so she could accommodate to his size. She moaned and helped him in deeper, lowering herself onto him until she enveloped him completely. They stayed like that for a few moments, in awe of being joined.

"Madonna Mi," Tony murmured.

"Can't stay like this, my ankle," Angela said. "Need to lie down."

Remaining locked into her, Tony eased her into a lying down position. He hovered above her now, still joined but not yet moving. He couldn't remain still any longer and began thrusting into her slowly and deeply, his eyes never leaving hers. The rhythm came to them naturally and they began moving in tandem, finding the right speed and force. Angela threw her legs over Tony's shoulders so he could fill her completely. She'd dreamed of this moment, making love, overcome by his raw masculine power rocking into her over and over again.

Tony looked into Angela's face, watching the high pink colour in her cheeks, and the sweat beginning to bead on her forehead. He leaned down and kissed her as he continued pounding into her. He was close, he could feel it but didn't know if she was, so he reached down between them and touched her in that special spot to ignite her release.

They fell over the edge together, airborne in ecstasy, moaning and gasping for breath. Tony called out Angela's name before he stilled, and heard her scream out his. Spent, Tony collapsed beside her, his breath coming out in short, harsh puffs. "Oh my god, oh my god," he said. "That was … that was … wow."

"Ummm, so good," she panted between breaths.

"Hey," Tony turned onto his side to face her. Angela curled up and smiled at him.

"Hey yourself," she whispered back. She brought her fingers to his cheek and caressed his flushed face. He grasped her fingers and turned over her palms, then placed a searing kiss on her wounded skin. "Gotta bandage those up again," he said.

"Later, so sleepy Tony." Angela's eyes began to close and Tony grabbed the bedding at their feet and pulled it up and over their cooling bodies. He kissed her forehead, then her nose, and her closed eyelids. She smiled and exhaled a sleepy "love you" before drifting off completely.

"I love you so much," he said. She'd already fallen asleep, exhausted by the ordeals of the day and their lovemaking. Tony cuddled up to Angela and allowed fatigue to claim him.

 **A/N: So, I've given you what you wanted. Reviews please. One more chapter to wrap things up.**


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